“When was the last time you spoke to the wife?” Cantor said.
“Right after I called Jenny.”
I told Ryan we’d see him when we got there. About a minute later, my phone rang again. I didn’t even look at the screen this time, just assumed it was Ryan calling back.
“This is Jenny,” I said.
There was silence at the other end, until I finally heard a muffled voice say, “This is Money.”
I immediately put the call on speaker.
“Billy, are you all right?”
“No,” he said before the line went dead.
Eighty-Two
CANTOR DROVE VERY FAST.
He said driving this way through the streets of San Francisco was one of the perks of his job, along with being able to badge his way into Wolves games any time he wanted to.
“Wait—you did that even before you met me?”
“Only if it was a particularly big game.”
Ryan was waiting for us in front of the restaurant. Cantor parked next to a hydrant.
“Billy just called me,” I said.
“Where is he?” Ryan said.
“He didn’t say.”
“How did he sound?”
“Not good.”
Ryan said, “We’ve got a game in thirty-six hours.”
“I’m aware.”
Cantor said, “Let’s find him first and then worry about that.”
“I’m a coach,” Ryan said.
“I’maware,” Cantor said.
“Maybe the whole thing was too good to be true,” Ryan said.
Another incoming call.
“Billy?” I said.
His voice sounded weaker than before.
“Sorry…I got a little sick while I was talking to you.”
“Try to figure out where you are, and Coach and I will come get you.”